Trying to Look Smart in Front of My Kids

One of the hard parts of being a mom is answering any and all questions that come our way.
Sometimes I have the answers, sometimes I don't.
And as my children get older, the questions get harder.

My 15-year old is now in pre-calculus, which is as far as I got in math, 
so this might be the last year I can help him with anything in that subject.
A couple of days ago, he had a question on his homework that he asked for my help. 
It went something like this:

Identify which one of the following functions as decreasing

a. outdoor temperature as a function of time
b. air pressure in earth's atmosphere as a function of altitude
c. water pressure in the ocean as a function of depth
d. The Dow Jones as a function of time

I was stumped. 
I wanted to impress him with the correct answer right off the bat, 
but that didn't happen.
I turned to google.
(the correct answer was b.)

My brain capacity as a function of time: increasing or decreasing? 
(don't answer that!)


In the car this morning, I was telling my 10-year-old son about the civil war in Libya 
and how the U.S. Ambassador was killed there.
 
He asked, "What's an ambassador?"
I said, "It's a person from our country that goes to their country and lives there and does government things. And you know, makes friends there and represents our country."

His next question, "Where is Libya?"
Crap. Geography was not my strong point.
I said, "I think it's in Africa somewhere."

Then he asked me, "When was our Civil War?"
Huh.
I knew I should have paid more attention to dates in history, 
if anything so I could look smart in front of my kids.
I decided to bluff it.
"I think it was around 1860 or so."

When I got to work, I googled it.
Libya is in northern Africa.
The American Civil War was from 1861-1865.

Score!



 

How Do You Want To Die?

Last night was Curriculum Night at the high school.
I'll have another post about that tomorrow.

However, as we were leaving the high school and headed home,
my 10-year-old posed a question.

"How do you want to die?"

 My 15-year-old immediately responded, "Of natural causes in old age."
To which the 10-year-old says, "Oh, that's boring."

I was still flabbergasted by the question.

Where had this come from?
Had he been thinking about death?
Had someone been talking to him about dying?
He thinks certain ways to die are boring?!
I'm clearly on the verge of a full blown panic.

Before I completely freaked out, I decide to ask him,
"How do you want to die?"

He has his answer ready.
"Being chased off a cliff by naked women."

My jaw dropped.

Both boys dissolve into giggles.
Good lord have mercy.


(for those of you who don't know, apparently that is a scene from one of the Monty Python movies.)


 

Overheard

When you get three adult sisters together along with their seven children (ages 4 to 11 years old), there is excitement and chaos. If you close your eyes and just listen, you will discover hidden gems in the swirling activity and conversations.

Here are some of the things I overheard:

"I'm not telling you, you could be a traiter!" (overheard during covert operations in the pool)

"My dog could poop your dog." (When comparing our lab Annie to my sister's chihuahua)

"Look out below!" (hollered from the second floor indoor balcony to the den below)

"You stole my torpedo!" (heard over and over again during those same covert operations in the pool)

"What's up with the ponies?" uttered in disbelief by my eleven year old when he encountered a staircase full of the above plastic herd.

"It was a battle, but I got it," my sister said with great relish as she finished putting a ponytail in her daughter's hair.

I wish I had pictures to accompany this post, but you'll have to wait until I get back home.

I sang for my Starbucks again this morning. Free drinks for a little embarrassment.

We spent the day at Space Center Houston and NASA. Pictures and stories to come later!

AND, I finally started reading the Twilight series. It is Wow.

Finally, did you know that little girls can cry on demand? I'm impressed.